


Till the end of the line

by Samcgrath



Series: I knew him [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Just like last time, M/M, Sam is a victim here, and Sam wants no part of it, but he holds his own against Fucky, comeback of the fridge magnets, constant bickering and banter between bucky and sam, take note of the rating change, there's more of blushing Steve, things are finally happening in this household, this has a description of a panic attack so be warned, which leads to a lot of frustrated phone calls to Nat, which reminds me, who just laughs and hangs up, yeah that's about it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-05
Updated: 2016-06-06
Packaged: 2018-07-12 12:39:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 16,872
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7103809
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Samcgrath/pseuds/Samcgrath
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve and Bucky are navigating through their shiny, brand new relationship while Sam plays the eternal third wheel. It's all going very well till the rumours start; Captain America is HYDRA.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So. The 3k alternate ending to CW has somehow turned into a 30k fic with light smut. Clearly, I'm not good with keeping things in limit. Needless to say, there wasn't supposed to be a sequel. 
> 
> See what happened was, Naa is my biggest supporter and more often than not my motivation to write. So we got to chatting about how this fic was mostly me re-writing the pranks and fights my brother and I had had, and Naa said a sequel would be lovely. Bit of background - for more than a year now, I've always told Naa to give me a prompt and I'd write it for her but she hasn't taken me up on that offer yet. So when she asked for a sequel for this, I got on the phone with my mum and asked her what else my brother and I used to get up to and long story short - Naa asked for a sequel and here it is.

He finds Bucky out on the balcony, Buck’s got a beer in hand and he’s looking down at the city.

He bites his lip, considers his options. He knows he has to talk to Bucky, but he kind of doesn’t want to. He could wait, he could always write it down and give it to Bucky.

No, he’s not going to be a coward about this.

He has to talk to Bucky, face to face. Yes.

But maybe he could wait till they have dinner, and he could pull Bucky aside-no, he has to do it now.

Taking a deep breath, he walks out onto the balcony and sits in the empty chair beside Bucky. It takes him a second to gather his wits, Bucky offers him a beer but he declines.

And as he sits there thinking about how to start this, Buck’s watching him with an amused look on his face.

Well, here goes.

“Hey, I just wanted to say--look, what happened yesterday and this morning--we don’t have to. I mean, don’t feel pressured about it, alright? I know that we, y’know--”

“Kissed?”

He looks down at his feet, can’t bring himself to look up. “Yeah, that.”

“You can’t even say it! Come on, Stevie, I know you can do it.”

“Shut up.”

“Why don’t you make me?” There's something in his voice that Steve remembers from all those years ago, when he used to charm all the dames-- _no, don't go there. Stay on track._

“Okay, no. Wait. Let me say this first.”

“Sure, go ahead.”

“I just--I don’t want you to feel like you have to, y’know, respond. I mean, that sort of came out of nowhere and I’m still trying to understand how and why I feel how I feel and I know that you’ve got so many other things to worry about and--I guess what I’m trying to say is, we can start over if you want. I will hold no expectations and I won’t ever try to do anything like that again, if you tell me now.”

“Tell you what? That I didn’t mean to kiss you?”

“Buuuckyy..”

“Why are you whining? What?”

“I’m serious, Buck. We didn’t talk about this at all, I didn’t even know you were--y’know. And I’d just talked to Nat that night and found out that bisexuality is a thing and then that happened. I just don’t want you to feel like you have to do something you don’t want to. That’s all.”

Bucky’s looking at him like--oh god, he’s looking at Steve like he used to back when he’d find him in an alley somewhere all beaten up. It’s such a familiar look, those eyes and that face - a wave of nostalgia almost washes him over and he hears his voice breaking over the question, “W--what?”

“So damn noble, Stevie. Still just as noble as always, kid.”

He used to hate when Bucky called him that - kid. He’d always say, “You’re hardly a year older, jerk.”

Bucky smiles, lips parting to reveal perfect teeth and Steve hangs his head at the memory that grin brings. He can’t be thinking like this if he’s telling Bucky he’ll back off, those flashes from the kiss--they’re not helping.

“That may be true, Captain.” He can’t help the little shiver that runs down his spine when that word crosses Bucky’s lips. “But you and I both know that you are a kid with all your nobility and righteousness because people take advantage of you, Steve. And before you argue, it’s got nothing to do with how small or big you are physically.”

“Don’t change the subject, this is about you not me.”

“Isn’t it? Aren’t we discussing something that affects us both?”

He sighs, rakes a hand through his hair and finds Bucky’s eyes tracking the movement. Then, those eyes settle on him and he can’t help but smile at him.

“Buck, I don’t know how to do this--this thing.”

“And you think I do? Not everyday I fall for a man, Rogers.”

“I just mean--wait, what?!”

“What?”

“You just said…”

“I know what I said.”

“So?”

“So what?”

“So you are okay with what happened?”

“In case you haven’t noticed, I’m not the one having a freak out right now.”

“No, but I mean--you didn’t say anything all day yesterday and today, so I thought you were--maybe regretting it.”

“I’d tell you if I was.”

“So, we’re okay?”

“I think so.”

“So, you want--I mean, you are okay with all this?”

“Will you relax, Stevie? You look like I’ve just proposed marriage to you. It was just a kiss, what will you when we actually hav--”

“Please stop.”

“Such a prude, Rogers.” He says it but Steve can see the way there’s a redness to his face disappearing under the stubble. God, they’re both so new at this and Bucky’s not freaking out; this is so surreal.

“I don’t understand, how are you fine will all this?”

“Do you want me to freak out?”

“No, but aren’t you confused about this? I mean, I’m a man an--”

“Yeah, I noticed.”

“Buck, I’m serious.”

“Look, I’m just as lost as you are, if not more. I know I ain't queer but I also know that I’ve looked at men before and maybe had a thought or two.”

“You have?”

“‘Course it wasn’t something I’d ever act on, not back then. And plus, it was just a passing fancy; not like this.”

“This?”

“Oh come on, Stevie. This ain’t that.”

“So what is it, then?”

“I don’t know.”

“I think we can figure it out, together.”

“I like that plan.”

“Me too.”

***

Sam walks into the kitchen, yawning and rubbing his eyes, and stops short.

He’s the first one up most days so it’s a surprise to find the lights already on and the soft whining of the coffee maker already turning into a soft gurgling. He looks around suspiciously, but neither of the other two residents of the house seems to be about.

Another yawn rips through him and that’s all the alertness he can manage this early in the morning so he shrugs and goes to get the morning paper. Scratching his belly, he settles at his usual barstool and waits for the coffee maker to beep and bless him with the nectar of the gods.

BEEP.

“Ah, the sweet smell of coffee”, he mumbles to himself and reaches over to pour himself a cup but finds the machine is two inches out of his grasp which isn’t right. Every damn morning, for months now, he sits in this exact same spot and reaches out to get a mug and pours himself a cup of coffee. Hmmm.

He leans over to his other side and experimentally reaches out to see if he can get to the kettle. Nope.

Huh.

“Fuck this, it’s too early for this shit.”

He gets up and walks over to the other side of the counter, pours himself a cup and goes back to his barstool, still bugged about not being able to get the coffee from his seat. How can that have changed overnight?

The sweet smell of coffee and the juicy bits of news in the paper distract him from it though, and he forgets all about it till he tries to rest his foot on the footrest and almost falls off because there is no footrest and the imbalance makes him spill coffee down the front of his shirt. Hot coffee is on his skin before he’s even tasted it.

“Alright, that’s it!”, he yells, perhaps a little too loudly for six in the morning but dammit.

Steve rushes out, half-asleep with his hair all mussed and no shirt. 

“Sam? What’s wrong?”

“What’s wrong is your boyfriend moved my barstool and nailed it to the floor! And he removed the footrest so I’ve just spilled coffee all over my clothes!”

Steve sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose as if it’s Sam’s fault, which no.

“Sam--”

“Nu-uh, don’t ‘Sam’ me. Tell your boyfriend to watch his back!”

The symbol of American patriotism nods, “Can I tell him at an acceptable hour of the morning?”

“This would be an acceptable hour if you’d gotten to bed and not stayed up all night giggling like teenagers at a sleepover.”

Steve choses to ignore that jab and walks back to his room but Sam knows it was a good one. Maybe he’ll try it later on Fucky.

Day-dreaming about riling up Tinman, Sam smiles and brings the coffee cup to his lips and gets ready for the first sip of heaven and spits it right out because--”You put fucking salt in my coffee? You are a dead man, Barnes! Dead!”

He can hear the bastard giggling from his room and he would go in there right now and kill him if there wasn’t at least a 12% chance that Captain America is doing very un-patriotic things to Bucky right now.

“You watch your back, Tinman! I’ll get you good!”

Man, he knew he shouldn’t have trusted the suspicious case of the coffee machine already going before he woke up. He’s so naive sometimes.

***

  
***

There’s a documentary about the women pilots of WW2 on the tv right now and Steve’s too busy doing his patriotic duties and staring up at the screen in unadulterated reverence that Bucky’s surprised he hasn’t stood up and started singing the national anthem already.

He, himself, while interested in the documentary is taking a different approach. He’s standing in the kitchen, leaning against the counter after the disaster that was finding himself superglued to the couch. And the embarrassment that followed when he forcibly tried to get off to find his pants stuck to the sofa and him standing bare ass only to find Sam waiting for him with a camera.

So in conclusion, Bucky has given up sitting in this house. 

Even when Steve beckons him over with a soft smile: “Come on, Buck. This couch is fine. I’m sitting here, ain’t I?”

“Nah, I’m fine here.” 

Sam walks into the kitchen right at that moment, snorts and does a poor job of stifling his laughter. Steve’s head swings around to face Sam and his face is a very good rendition of a mother about to chew you out for hassling your sibling.

Bucky takes comfort in the fact, and smiles at Sam behind Steve’s back. This is about to get interesting.

And sure enough, Stevie’s getting off the sofa and walking toward Wilson; Bucky can see the beads of sweat on birdman’s face and he curls his lips to stop the smile from spreading. No, he has to look all innocent and worried.

Steve shoots Bucky a single look, warning him and he quickly raises his hands in surrender like a good boy. Apparently satisfied, Steve turns his back to him and faces Sam whose eyes widen in alarm, “Hey man, he started it. He put salt in my coffee and messed with my barstool--”

“And do you think that that warrants supergluing him to the couch? He could’ve been hurt really bad, Sam--”

“And I couldn’t be? With hot coffee on my skin?”

“I’ve already talked to him about that.”

They both turn to look at him and Bucky quickly schools his expression into someone drowning in guilt. And they turn back around.

Inside, he’s bristling remembering the utter chewing out he’d been at the receiving end of. Steve had practically threatened to kick him out if he ever tried the coffee thing again. Whatever. He pulls himself back out from the memory, unclenches his fists and pays attention to the now.

Steve is lifting a hand to point over this shoulder at Bucky: “Plus, you took a photo of him at a very vulnerable moment.”

He feels himself tensing, wondering what that photo contains. Well, his underwear had been intact underneath his ripped pants but still.

Sam mumbles something in response, Bucky finds himself taking a step closer but he still can’t make out what he’s saying. Neither can Steve apparently, because he asks him to repeat it.

Wilson looks down at the floor, shuffling his feet as he whispers, “The phone was on video mode, I didn’t get a photo.”

Sweet relief rushes through his body and he finds himself sagging against the counter, oh thank god.

One look at Sam’s face confirms that he doesn’t have a photo of Bucky with the seat of his pants ripped off. And once that realization settles in, he smiles. Smirks really, right at Sam over Steve’s shoulder and sees the fear trickling into those brown eyes.

_Watch your back._

Sam’s eyes widen at the mouthed warning, but by the time Steve turns around, he’s already smoothing out his features into a grateful smile. 

Of course, Steve doesn’t believe him for one second because he knows Bucky more than anyone knows Bucky but at least he doesn’t call him out on anything and just goes to watch his documentary, shaking his head as usual.

Once he’s gone, Bucky smiles at Sam - that sweet smile that used to make all the dames weak at the knees. And by the looks of it, Wilson definitely feels weak somewhere because he tries to keep a brave face on but Bucky can smell fear.

“Watch your back, Wilson.”

“You watch your back, Barnes.”

“Will you two stop behaving like mobsters in a B-grade film and sit down? Nobody’s watching their back, this isn’t a gang war! Sit down.”

Bucky doesn’t sit down and Sam disappears out of the room. Steve tries coaxing him over to the sofa but Bucky’s not going near that thing for at least a week.

***

He is a nice person which is why he offers to go and buy orange juice from the little corner shop down the road. It has nothing to do with the nasty glares Robocop’s been shooting him since the super-glue incident.

Steve smiles at him like he knows what Sam’s doing, and is grateful that he’s making an effort. Man, it feels so good to bathe in the uncensored approval of Captain America; it feels like warm sunlight on his skin on a breezy kind of day.

So, he announces that he’ll go buy the juice and even asks if there’s anything else he can bring from the store - _that’s being magnanimous, that is_. It’s all going so well, he definitely won’t be killed in his sleep by the crazy assassin living with them if he does something nice he wouldn’t usually bother with, right? This is a good plan--

"You sure you wanna go across the road there, Sam? Ain't your lot really bad with crossing roads and stuff?"

And he loses all will to be the bigger man just like that.

“Fuck this! I’m not your damn butler, get your own damn juice!”

Steve looks disappointed by this development but he choses to stay quiet. Sam sees him whispering something to Fucky later and can only hope he’s getting chewed out for being a major dick.

***

Steve’s already in the kitchen, chopping up fruits and things, which makes him look around suspiciously for the other senior citizen since these two haven’t been apart for more than three minutes since they finally got over their blushing virgin acts.

There’s no sign of the 1/5th Terminator though, so Sam relaxes a little and checks the barstool before sitting down because he’s not making that mistake again. Steve looks at him for a second, sees him checking his barstool and silently returns to his chopping.

“So uh, how’re you this morning, Cap?”

He smiles at Sam, and goddamn this man is a national treasure with his perfect hair and his perfect smile - it’s like looking directly into the sun, it’s that bright.

“I’m alright, you?”, he asks as if he can’t see the smile on Sam’s face that’s pretty much an involuntary reaction to his smile.

“Good.”

And then he absently pushes a breakfast bowl towards Sam who takes it with a very grateful smile, “Thanks, Steve.”

Then, that smile evaporates because--"What's this?"

Steve’s knife stops instantly at the question. He looks up at Sam with confusion marring his features, “Your cereal..?"

Sam breathes through his nose, reminding himself to keep his calm because he’s got a bad blood pressure problem and a hospital visit is not on his cards, no.

Keeping his voice barely constrained, he grinds out: “This is not my cereal."

Steve looks a little more concerned now, he puts the knife down and wipes his hands on the towel on his shoulder, “Um, Bucky picked it up…”

Sam hears himself growling and biting out, “He did, did he?”

Steve’s walked over to this side of the counter, he’s beside Sam looking down at the bowl with a frown on his face like he doesn’t even know what it is.

"It's fucking birdseed, Steve! Your fucking boyfriend put _birdseed_ in my breakfast bowl!"

There’s a moment where Sam’s sure that Steve is about to laugh but he recovers well, curling his lips in and nodding at Sam before saying, “I uh--I’ll go talk to him.”

He sits there at the barstool, perfectly still and clenching his fists to keep himself from doing anything he’ll later regret.

He can hear a hushed argument from Fucky’s room as Steve admonishes him, “You were supposed to get his cereal, Bucky. Why did you do this, make it harder for everyone? Why’d you buy birdseed?”

He hears Bucky’s response right away: “So he knew it was birdseed? That’s so fucking funny that he could actually tell it was birdseed!”

He finds himself inching closer to the knife Steve’s left on the counter even before he hears loud laughter ringing out through the house and he recognizes the dangers of being here so he puts on his jogging shoes and goes for a run. He is not going down for homicide, not today.

Oh, he’ll get Bucky. He’ll get him good.

***

***

Steve stretches out his legs on the carpet and watches as Sam gets up and looks toward the kitchen. He’s probably going to get something to drink, Steve’s about to ask him to bring him water if we wouldn’t mind but Bucky beats him to it: “Since you're up, can you get me--”

Before he can even finish his sentence, Sam falls to the sofa - face first - mumbling: “Imma take a nap.”

Bucky makes a very harsh sound through his nose, and Steve can just feel another argument on the horizon so he sighs and gets up to get himself a glass of water and asks Bucky what he wants.

“Can you get me some juice, Steve?” he hears Sam’s muffled voice.

“Thought you were taking a nap”, Bucky says through what sounds like clenched teeth.

“Ain’t anymore”, replies Sam, sitting back up with a shit grin on his face.

Steve carries over a glass of juice and a soda, and has to go back to get his water but at least he doesn’t have to pull apart two fully grown men from ripping each other’s limbs out.

It’s a relatively peaceful day.

***

“I’ve got Robocop sick and drooling all over the sofa. I didn’t know he could even get sick, with his super genes and all that. And you know what sick Bucky is like? An even bigger asshole than he usually is! Every five minutes I hear a weak, ‘Steeb, you here?’ and then Rogers comes running out of somewhere like a quarterback ready for attack. I don’t know how much longer I can take this - the biggest problem is he looks so damn adorable with his stupid nose all red and his sniffling and he’s swathed in soft blankets going all ‘Steeb Steeb Steeb’. I can’t take it, get me outta here!”

***

They’ve eaten way too much for three people and are now lying haphazardly across the carpet, all worries about the world long forgotten. Steve reaches over and wraps a hand around Bucky’s ankle, caresses the skin softly with no real intention but then hears a sharp intake of breath along with a slight jerk of the leg in his hand and he knows he’s found a sensitive spot.

Unfortunately, so does Sam: “I’m out of here!”

He gets up and goes to put his shoes on when all of a sudden, he exclaims: "Oh, that's real mature, man.”

Steve gets up on his elbows to see what’s happening to find Sam hobbling over towards the kitchen because Bucky’s kicked his shoe across the room.

"Thanks, I am quite mature”, Bucky mumbles now laying perfectly still like he doesn’t even know what Sam’s talking about. Steve tightens his grip on the ankle as a test and he gets a good response in the form of a whimper.

“At least wait till I’m gone, you old perverts!”

Steve can’t hold it in any longer and bursts out laughing, as he wiggles around till he’s the right side up beside Bucky: “Really? Your ankle, Buck?”

“Oh, that’s rich coming from you, Mr. Super Sensitive n---”

“Aaaaaahhhh!!!” Sam’s yelling from somewhere and they both dissolve into a fit of giggles.

***

***

“Do you know how many times I’ve seen one of them walk into a fucking wall because they’re blind, lovesick fools? I mean just this morning, Fucky ran into the fridge. The fridge! How can someone walk into a fridge?? And Steve’s out here stumbling and stuttering his way through life - he’s Captain America, for god’s sake! But Fucky’s made him into a bumbling boy scared of his girlfriend’s father. I’m living in the life of an angsty teen; I’m living in a bad rom-com film, Natasha!”

***

Sam is so close to picking up that fancy vase on the little table beside the tv and hurling it at someone’s head, and given that there are only two people in this house apart from him, it’ll be one of them.

He is equally close to shoving all his clothes into a suitcases and rolling out of here for good. 

The reason for both those things is the the number of times he has walked into a room and found Steve and Barnes sucking face or making disgusting faces at each other or eyefucking over dinner.

He is _this_ close.

Constant drinking has helped and so have his noise cancelling headphones so he doesn’t have to hear the sappy conversations or worse, the dirty talk. Because it really is.

As if on cue, he looks up from his laptop to find Steve and Fucky standing so close together here isn’t even air between them and Sam’s just getting off the sofa and closing his laptop to leave when he hears this little snippet: "Well, hello there, Captain. You look mighty fine." "So do you, Sergeant." 

Oh god, he needs bleach. He needs to unhear this pronto.

Instead of noticing an entire person in the room and respecting said person’s mental health, the assholes giggle like teenagers making out for the first time.

Sam clears his throat, and enjoys the slightest bit when Steve jumps back almost across the room and looks at Sam like he’s been caught doing something much worse. Actually no, Sam can’t think of anything much worse--wait, he can.

Oh shit -- that’s not a mental picture he wanted.

ABORT. ABORT.

***

Opposed to popular view, he does learn his lessons pretty quickly. And he hasn’t forgotten the last time Bucky had caught him yelling at Tony over the phone about involving a teenager in a dangerous situation.

Keeping all of that in mind, he hadn’t noticed the napping figure on the couch while he took a call from Phil. And he most certainly had not noticed when said figure had risen from said nap and made its way across the room because Steve was too busy arguing with Phil about a mission he’d been sent on last week under false pretences. 

Granted, it wasn’t a dangerous lie but still, he expects to be told the truth about things when he’s going halfway across the world to find Natasha already there working on the same mission.

And he tells Phil as much, “You can’t lie to me, or to anyone for that matter, about such things. Falsifying information to get me there, that’s just unacceptable.”

He hears a scoff behind him and that’s the first sign that someone’s present so his instincts take over and he almost kicks Bucky in the guts before realizing who it is.

He tells Phil to call him back.

“Will you stop sneaking up on me, one of these days I’m going to hurt you badly.”

“In your dreams, maybe.” Buck looks like he was woken up in the middle of his nap, probably by Steve’s call so he leans closer and pulls him into a hug.

Bucky hums contentedly and his arms come up around Steve.

"What were you scoffing about, anyway?", he asks pulling back and looking down into sleepy blue eyes.

"Oh, me?”, he asks all innocent. Steve should have walked away then and there. “Just the fact that you sat inside at last five medical offices with a notice saying ‘It's illegal to falsify your enlistment form' and then falsified your enlistment form. Five different times. And now you're lecturing someone about the dangers of lying. That's all."

Steve bows his head and walks away from an argument he has no chance of winning. Ever.

***

***

Sam wakes from a nap, all relaxed and excited to eat his leftovers from last night. Oh man, he’s so excited he does a little skip on the way to the fridge because Dal Makhani always tastes better the next day.

With a smile on his face, he swings open the fridge door and leans down to get the takeaway container from the middle shelf...

“No.”

His Dal Makhani isn’t there. There’s a giant empty space in the fridge where his Dal Makhani should be. There’s the fruit basket on the left and there’s the tupperware container of soup from two nights ago on the right and in between them where his leftovers should be, there’s an empty space.

“Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhh!!”

Steve comes running, almost skids on the carpet and breaks his skull open but Sam really can’t be bothered about much other than his missing food, food he’d been dreaming about just five minutes ago.

No. No. No. No. No. No.

He feels someone shaking him and realizes that he’s muttering, looks down to see Steve gripping his arm trying to get his attention.

“Sam, what’s wrong? Sam?!”

“I left my Dal Makhani in the fridge, where's my Dal Makhani?” He sees Bucky sauntering out of Steve’s room, sans shirt and that is not something Sam needs to be thinking about right now while he’s freaking out over his missing leftovers.

Then, he notices the little smirk on the asshole’s face.

No.

The rage that spreads through him, oh holy god. He could rip a man apart right now.

“Did you--did you take my dal makhani? You better not have taken my Dal Makhani!! I'll kill you!”

Before he even knows what he’s doing, he’s lunging forward and punching Fucky right in the face.

Steve has to drag him away from his precious boyfriend because Sam will scratch the shit out of him for eating his leftovers. He will rip out that Loreal hair strand by strand. He’ll rip off that metal arm and play hockey with it. He’ll--

***

Twenty minutes later, someone knocks on his door. He doesn’t want to answer, doesn’t want to go back out there after what’s happened but he’s an adult and he can deal with the consequences of his actions.

He opens the door to find no one. Just as he’s about to shut it, he looks down and notices the bag in the doorway. It’s from Priya’s curry place downtown.

He takes the bag and silently slinks back inside.

He makes sure to hide the leftovers really well this time.

***

Still recovering from the missing leftovers massacre of Tuesday, Sam doesn’t trust himself around Bucky just yet. He’s been keeping his distance and Bucky’s been good about it but it becomes a little difficult when Steve gets called away on a top secret mission somewhere leaving just the two of them at home.

He’s not really sure how he’s ended up here, there has to have been beer involved. With him and Bucky, there usually is.

And now he’s half laying on the sofa giggling over the mental image that Bucky’s given him - Nick Fury dressed as a pirate, cursing his way through life as he does anyway and pulling off loots all over the world.

Oh, wait--he remembers now.

He’d made a Pirates of the Caribbean reference that’d flown right over Fucky’s head so they’d ended up watching the first two films and somewhere in the middle of a very serious scene, Bucky had gone - _I can imagine that one-eyed guy as a pirate. If he was here, this film’d be over in ten minutes._

And that’d somehow made Sam imagine Nick Fury as a pirate, singing and dancing with too much rum in his system, flirting with Keira Knightley…

“You should ask Steve, when he comes back”, Bucky suggests and Sam’s drunk mind doesn’t object at all. _That’s a brilliant idea_ , it agrees.

So when Steve comes back in the middle of the night and finds the two of them staring up at the flat screen watching the fourth film with bloodshot eyes, Sam feels the need to ask him.

Steve looks at them warily, which--okay they deserve that but haven’t they been nice all day? Sam even made Bucky a sandwich earlier and didn’t even replace mayo with sour cream.

Suddenly, he feels something digging into his side and looks down to find Bucky poking him in the ribs and when their eyes meet, Bucky nods toward Steve and oh.

_Oh, right._

Sam tries to get up, staggers a bit but Steve’s there holding him up and isn’t that nice. “Steve, I have to ask you--no, _we_ have to ask you something.”

He can hear someone grinding their teeth behind him so he turns to see a glaring Fucky watching him. “What? You wanted to know too.”

Bucky just sneers, Sam’s confused - didn’t Bucky ask him to ask Steve? So why’s he acting all innocent in this--

“Sam?”, Steve’s voice cuts into his inner monologue and he remembers again.

“Well, _we_ wanted to know if Fury ever pretends to be a pirate. ‘Cuz of the eyepatch, y’know. Have you ever seen him like that...on Halloween, maybe?”

Steve looks down at Sam with a little frown on his face, then he turns to look at Tinman and then back at Sam.

“You--you both want to know if Nick Fury pretends to be a pirate in his free time?”

Sam nods, turns to see Bucky begrudgingly nodding as well.

Steve’s shaking his head at them, _why is he looking so disappointed? Sam doesn’t get it-_ \- “This is what you’ve bonded over? Seriously?”

Before he can say anything, Steve’s sighing and walking towards his bedroom, saying something about being too tired after the mission to deal with drunk man-babies.

Sam turns toward Bucky, who looks equally surprised, and through a mutual decision they unpause Pirates of the Caribbean and settle down to finish the film. Except Sam can’t look at Captain Sparrow without thinking of Fury and that makes the film so much better.

He’s going to have a hell of a hangover in the morning.

***

***

“So you want to know if Nick Fury ever dresses up as a pirate.”

That’s the first thing he hears next morning from Steve Rogers, who’s in his jogging gear and is looking at Sam with the straightest face he’s ever seen on Cap.

 _What?_ his brain helpfully supplies. _What is he talking about? What does that even mean?_

Sam feels like death warmed over so he’s not ready for these mind games just yet and he says as much.

Steve doesn’t budge. “I came in at three in the morning to find you two snickering like teenagers who’ve smoked pot for the first time. And that’s what you asked me - if I knew if Fury ever dresses up as a pirate on Halloween.”

Sam would be embarrassed or worse scared that Steve would actually ask Fury and say Sam was the one wanting to know, but he’s too busy holding on to his head that’s throbbing mercilessly.

“There’s lemon juice in the fridge, should help with the headache.”

Steve doesn’t wait for him to say thanks, the front door slams shut after him and Sam can hear it bang right against his head and it hurtsss.

Ten minutes later, Bucky shows up with his hair a right mess - looking like a bird’s nest but he keeps that imagery to himself, for his own good - and he settles beside Sam, his head clutched in his hands.

Ah, he feels better knowing that Fucky’s got a hangover too.

That’ll get him through the day--and the smile dies right on his lips when Bucky reaches over and swats him upside the head and it burns and hurts so bad but that doesn’t stop him from reaching out and pushing Fucky off the barstool except the bastard got his hand around Sam’s wrist and now he’s falling too. He won’t let the asshole get away with this, he won’t even if he has to wrestle with him on the ground, he won’t…

Steve finds them on the floor, pushing each other down and Sam’s got Bucky’s hair in a fist and he’ll pull the whole thing out if only he could breathe because Fucky’s got him in a headlock and he’s seeing doubles right now and--

“Get off each other before I turn the tv on all the way up!”

They struggle around each other, having a silent battle of ‘you let my hair go first’, ‘no you let me go first’ while Steve stands there with his hands on his hips. FInally, they decide to let go at the same time and Sam’s ready to rip his hair out if Fucky doesn’t let him go but thankfully, he does.

So they scramble off the floor and shuffle their feet like admonished children, and then glare at each other while Steve huffs and sighs and walks away like a defeated parent.

***

“Stop being so emotional, Stevie.”

“I’m not, I just think about what they did to you all those years and I want to find every single one of them and make them pay. Hurt them like they hurt you. Pierce, he--he hurt you. I know he did. I wish he was here, in front of me. I’d make him pay for every single time he laid a hand on you.”

“Stop. Just stop.”

“Buck--”

“It’s done, Steve. I don’t want to remember it now. And you don’t have to think like that. I don’t give a fuck about Pierce or Rumlow or any of them. They don’t matter. I got you now, Stevie. They don’t matter.”

***

Two days after a recon mission in Bucharest, all major news stations are reporting on a story that shakes an entire nation down to its very foundation.

Captain America is a HYDRA agent, they say.

Steve sees it in the morning paper after snatching it from Sam who’d rushed to hide it from him when he’d walked into the kitchen yesterday morning. Sam had tried to rip the paper from his hands but Steve had already seen the words.

He’d seen a photo of himself in hand-to-hand- combat with one of the attackers in Bucharest and above his face was a little dialogue box with the words: _Hail Hydra._

His knees had buckled under him and he’d fallen to the floor before Sam could reach out.

He’d felt a haze of confusion come over him, thick clouds of disorientation and all of a sudden he’d felt like a sixteen year old boy in Brooklyn because that was the last time he’d had a panic attack.

***

It’s just like he remembers it, a panic attack.

One moment everything is muddled, his limbs are numb and his eyes are too tired to keep open. His chest feels awfully tight, like the skin is stretched too thin over his bones and he can’t quite breathe all the way in. A larger panic settles in when he does try to take a deep breath and his lungs won't expand all the way...

And then the next moment, sounds and senses rush back in leaving him even more breathless. He can see too much, hear too much, feel too much all of a sudden and there’s someone holding him. A strong chest behind him and a pair of arms around him and he wants to break free so he struggles, lashes out and hits whoever is behind him till he hears it--

“Stevie, it’s me.”

His anchor.

His totem.

Bucky’s been holding him through it like this since he had his first panic attack in front of his friend at thirteen years old.

Sarah Rogers had told Bucky he shouldn’t try to touch or force Steve when he has an attack. He had agreed but then when he’d seen it happen for the first time, seen Steve on the ground in an alleyway - his mouth open around breaths that wouldn’t come, nails scratching along concrete ground trying to find something to hold onto, tears streaming down his face - he had pulled Steve back into himself and held on through punches and slaps and scratching nails.

And he holds on now, as Steve slowly comes back to him.

***

Sam makes a chicken casserole for dinner.

It takes him hours trying to remember how his mother used to make it, but the long hours are a distraction. A welcome distraction.

He’d been there when Steve had collapsed to his knees after seeing the newspaper. He’d been there, shaking him and trying to help when Bucky had rushed out with just a towel around his waist, mid shower, and knelt beside Steve.

He’d been there when they’d both carried Steve to his bed.

He’d been there when Bucky had told him he was going to shut the door but not lock it, till Steve is okay.

He’d been there when Tony had rang and asked if Steve’s seen the papers.

He’d been there when Fury had called a video conference and made it very clear that no one is to talk to the media. That everything is being done to work out why this is happening.

He’d been there when Nat had come around and offered to stay the day, but hadn’t had the heart to go into Steve’s room when she knew Bucky was there.

He’d been there when Clint had called and asked if he and others should come around. They wanted to, every single one of them, but didn’t want to create more problems for Steve.

He’d been there when Bucky had come out, ashen faced and told them Steve was finally asleep and that it’s better if no one came around for a few days.

He’d been there when Nat had asked him if he was okay and he’d just nodded numbly.

And he’s here now with Steve and Bucky both sat at the little living room table in front of the tv with plates piled high with roasted chicken casserole and a side of fried basmati rice.

Steve seems like his usual self, he has giant heart eyes for Bucky and a sweet smile of gratitude for Sam for the dinner.

Bucky looks worried, keeps stealing glances at Steve and biting his lip till Steve’s hand finds his on the table and squeezes. Bucky sighs and nods. Sam pretends not to have seen.

He’s worried about Cap but more than that, he’s glad to see him. It’s a scary thing, to see your heroes fall. To see Captain America knocked to his knees with just a few words.

Sam has a meeting at Fury’s headquarters tomorrow morning in regards to who started this mayhem. And he’s going to make it hurt.

In the mean-time, Steve moans appreciatively at the first bite and Sam looks at Bucky with a smug look, even raises his eyebrows in challenge.

Bucky, in return, glares at him and hisses, “Pass the salt.”

“Get your own damn salt.”

“Children”, Steve sighs with all the experience of a mother of two, and things are okay for now.

***

Steve’s quiet beside him, fingers tracing meaningless patterns against his left arm so he can’t really feel the touch but the worry and the anxiety translate anyway because he doesn’t need to feel Steve to know what he’s thinking.

Sighing, Steve turns on his side to face him. His eyes are dark today, no longer the colour of the bright sky on a sunny day. No, they look more like a subdued ocean today.

Bucky reaches out and brushes back his hair from his forehead where it flops softly in the absence of any hair product. His finger traces along the strong brows, moves down his temple and down one cheek.

Steve’s eyes fly up to meet his, a question in them.

“Stevie?”

Just like always, that’s enough. He doesn’t have to say anything else.

Steve takes a deep breath, his adam’s apple moving with the effort and he speaks as softly as he can without being silent: “Why would they say that, Buck? After everything HYDRA has done, why would they say that? How can they say that? I'm not HYDRA, Buck. I'm not.”

He reaches out and cups the strong jaw, holds the back of his neck to bring their foreheads together. He needs Steve to believe him.

“I know that, Stevie. You don't gotta tell me, I know. And everyone knows, Steve. The people know. It's just a few corrupt bastards who want to ruin your name and legacy, but the people know. I bet if you went outside right now and found a random kid on the street, he'd look up at you and go, 'I know you're not HYDRA, of course I know.’”

He nods, once. Eyes wet with unshed tears and Bucky feels something dark inside him rising to the surface. Something he’s been pushing down ever since he got away from HYDRA. The urge to find whoever’s done this and make them pay. _No witnesses._

He knows that Steve wouldn’t want him thinking like this, giving into this, so he buries it once again. Finds Steve’s hand and brings it to his mouth, kisses each knuckle with a promise.

Steve isn’t convinced. “Then why are they doing this?”

“It's to take it all away from you, Steve. This world has forgotten the war, they've already forgotten the horrors of the Nazis. It's because they weren't there, Stevie, to see the blood and death and torture. And they've forgotten us, Steve. They've forgotten you, as that little kid from Brooklyn. Because that kid could never be HYDRA. But people know that, in their hearts, I promise you that. The government or whoever’s behind this can try to shock people or make them believe you’re someone else - they can try all they want - but people know who you are, Steve. They see the real you, like Sam does and like I do.”

He can see the moment Steve believes him. He recognizes it from before, before this and before the war and before everything when Bucky would say ‘I’m with you till the end of the line, pal’ and Steve would believe him.

Oh.

That’s what it means.

Without even having to think about it, he leans in closer to Steve and says it again. For the first time since coming back.

Steve’s eyes widen and he stares at Bucky for a moment before that brilliant grin that could cure illnesses and end misery shines through and Bucky feels like he’s finally come home.

***

Steve’s been trying to read and the very annoying sound of the garbage disposal has him reading the same sentence seven times and that’s where he draws the line.

He yells at whoever is doing whatever with the garbage disposal to please stop but realizes soon enough that he’s screaming himself hoarse when the person probably can’t even hear him over the sound.

So he wanders into the kitchen to find Sam standing over the garbage disposal, a bag of plums in front of him on the counter and Bucky on the other side of the counter watching him as Sam takes the plums one by one and throws them into the garbage disposal - a maniacal grin on his face.

“You like plums? Imma throw them all away, you little shit!”

Steve tries to intervene, to step in and stop Sam but he just holds up his empty hand and yells over the sound of the whirring machinery: “No, Steve. Let me do this, man. He put birdseed in my cereal, and ate my leftovers, I’m throwing away his precious plums. Grinding them to mush right in front of him. How does it feel, Barnes?”

Bucky shrugs, there’s mirth in his eyes which Sam would see if he was paying the least bit of attention but he’s too busy grinding plums into a pulp, his hand already drenched in juice.

Steve tries once more but stops short when Sam looks offended that Steve won’t let him destroy fruit, so he steps back and waits.

It takes another minute for the plums to disappear and Sam crows in victory at the sight of the empty bag: “Aha! How does that feel, Tinman? Seeing your sacred food destroyed?”

Bucky’s face breaks into a million dollar smile, then a grin and that’s a bit distracting for Steve which is why it takes him a second to answer Sam who has turned to him looking helpless: “Why is he smiling like American Psycho? Has he finally lost it, Steve? _Over plums_?”

Steve can only try to soften the blow: “They were my plums.”

“They were your--what?!” Sam turns around to face Bucky, pointing at him accusingly with a very wet and squelchy finger: “You just stood there and let me kill them!”

All Bucky does is shrug and smirk, before sauntering away. While Steve has to console Sam that fruits don’t feel pain and that they’re in a better place now.

“I’m sorry I killed your plums, Steve.”

“It’s okay, Sam.”

“I’ll buy you more.”

“Sure, thanks.”

“I hate your boyfriend.”

“I know.”

***

He finds Steve standing at the kitchen counter, chopping carrots with his earphones in so Bucky doesn’t have to be quiet but he does have to be stealthy and he is. He moves unnoticed, stands behind Steve and leans in so they’re touching back to chest.

Steve starts, rips his earphones out and tries to turn around but he’s faster and he’s got Steve pinned to the counter. He’s got his arms around Steve’s chest and the second Steve realises who it is, he melts. He pushes back into Bucky and it’s absolute heaven so he doesn’t even think about it before rolling his hips and the sound that Steve makes, halfway between a gasp and a hiccup--god, Bucky’s never known heat like this. 

He thrusts a little more roughly this time and gets a drawn out curse for his efforts. 

“Language, Stevie.”

“Fuck you.”

He can’t help but laugh at that, can’t help but remember that firecracker of a kid from Brooklyn.

“You always had a mouth on you, Stevie. God, you could make anyone boil with anger. I remember like it was yesterday, scrawny little twelve year old you mouthing off at these eighteen year olds and then one of ‘em punched you in the teeth. Almost picked you up and cracked your skull open, would’ve too if that man didn’t see us getting beat. I remember Sarah yelled at us both, and I remember you tried mouthing off at her and got yourself grounded. So much spirit, Stevie. You always were too big for that little body of yours. And that damn mouth! And now I hear you’re correcting people’s language – that’s hypocrisy, ain’t it, Cap?”

This time he pushes forward and stays there for a moment, feels Steve’s hands gripping the kitchen counter as he moans. “Screw you.”

“Don’t be rude, Captain. I’m just trying to help. Why, you want me to stop?”

Before Steve can answer, Wilson shows up and ruins it all.

Bucky wants to push him off the balcony but Steve pulls him into their bedroom and Wilson lives another day.

***

There is an impromptu news conference sort of thing flashing across every news channel, with Fury standing in front of an unmarked building - microphones being thrust into his face as cameras flash incessantly at the first public appearance of Nick Fury after his alleged death last year.

He makes it very clear why he’s here: to address questions about Captain America.

The questions are rude, accusatory, intrusive, and almost always directed at Steve and his loyalty. Fury starts by saying that he is going to personally sue every single media outlet that made libelous remarks about Steve Rogers.

That gets a hushed silence around the crowd, as the reporters wait for him to continue.

“Given how ludicrous and frankly, motherfucking stupid these accusations were, I took it upon myself to find out why this started. I will not be naming any individuals but we apprehended the person behind this and the target has been neutralized.”

Someone yells out, ‘ _So Cap is not HYDRA?_ ’

Fury turns slightly, pointing his good eye in the general direction that that voice came from.

“If you are still asking me that question after what I just said, I think you’re too stupid for me to waste my time on.”

Nobody objects. Steve’s heart is in his throat as he watches Fury on the screen, his eye darting from face to face as if daring someone to interrupt him again. No one interrupts.

Next, Fury announces that Stark Industries recently undertook an innovative venture into memory research and the subject was Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes.

The second the words are said aloud, there’s chatter and loud voices saying impolite things once again. Fury doesn’t falter in his words or his speed.

“This was to answer, once and for all, this whole question of whether the Winter Soldier is still at large and should be apprehended. The answer to that question is no.”

There’s a murmur, people starting to object or maybe even question the legitimacy of such a claim. He can feel Bucky sitting bolt upright beside him, back stiff and breath held in.

Steve finds his hand and twines their fingers together, they both need each other right now.

“As someone who was personally punched in the face and killed by the Winter Soldier and someone who has enjoyed a casual chat with Sgt. Barnes over vodka, I can assure they are two very different people. If you don’t want to take my word for it, I can see some of you dumbasses nodding there, then trust Mr. Stark in his exhaustive attempts to prove that the Winter Soldier is still in there and coming up empty handed. And we all know there’s no love lost between Stark and Barnes so there's no reason for him to lie.”

“So, we’re just supposed to forget about all the crimes the Winter Soldier committed?”

Steve can see Fury’s jaw clenching, he hates being interrupted and hates it even more to be questioned. Steve holds his breath as Fury sneers towards one of the cameras.

“If you want to prosecute a man who has no memory of himself, and yet committed heinous crimes while being electrocuted and tortured by the most cruel organisation on the planet, be my guest.”

He stops talking, looks out at the crowd waiting for someone to say something. The only sound around him is the clicking of cameras and background traffic.

“If you think you are smarter than Tony Stark and can prove that Sergeant Barnes had even a shred of control over his actions in the last 70 years, I’ll let you at him.”

Bucky’s whole body jerks in response; Steve can’t help but feel the same way when Nick has so openly announced that he’ll give Bucky up. And this is all despite the talks before and after Tony’s examination. Steve had been very clear about it, during every single meeting - he will not give up Bucky.

And Bucky had agreed to do the test, hell he was the one who had convinced Steve to let him do it. Said he wanted to know once and for all, if he really is a monster. Steve’d protested his even thinking that he could be, and eventually he’d caved in to those pouty lips and steel blue eyes. They are in this together now, he knows.

On the screen, Fury leans down into the microphones and whispers “Anyone?”

Not a single sound.

Steve feels like a burden he’d been crushed under for years has finally lifted.

Bucky’s still a little stiff but that’s understable. At least, he’s not shaking anymore. He even looks at Steve with this unadulterated hope in his eyes - like he’s believing for the first time that he can be free. That he can truly be here, in this world.

“See? It’s all okay, Buck.”

Steve brings up their twined hands to his lips and kisses Bucky’s. They both seem to sigh at the same time, which leads to some very distressed sounds from behind them and yeah--Sam’s here too.

He’s just adamantly looking at the tv, like he’s pretending he’s not really here. Steve bites down on his smile, embarrassment colouring his features at the realization that he gets so lost in Bucky that the world stops existing sometimes.

Fury’s voice breaks him off from his thoughts.

“Now, after all that, if you still have questions I think you’re a motherfu--beep beep beep. If you have that kind of time and clearly no life of your own, and want to waste someone else’s time by asking stupid questions about this test or any other idiotic things I just wasted ten minutes on, call Stark’s company. We’ll find some poor bastard who has nothing better to do, to answer your stupid ass concerns.”

“And if I hear of anyone trying to harass Captain Rogers or Sergeant Barnes, I’ll come after your ass so quick you won’t even be able to use your motherf--”

The shot cuts back to someone in a studio, sitting under bright lights and grimacing at the language they’ve just aired live.

That settles it, apparently.

Fury has done it once again, addressed multiple sensitive issues with his not-so-sensitive approach and the world hasn’t crashed and burned.

***

“Fuck--Sam’s home, he’s going to hear--”

“Then, let him.”

“Buck--aah--fuck!”

He pulls Steve closer with a hand on the small of his back, pushes the hand lower until it’s gripping a strong thigh and pulling it up around his waist. Steve imbalances and falls forward, his breath hitching but Bucky’s ready for him, more than.

He flips them around and pushes his own thigh between Steve’s.

“Oh. Fu--uh.”

He can’t help but smirk at the shock on Steve’s face, can’t help but want to see it again so he really pins Steve against the wall with his whole body, makes sure Steve’s leg is still around his waist: “Like that, Captain?”

He’d noticed the way Steve had looked so affected the last time he’d called him that, and judging by the way those baby blues slip closed now, Bucky’d say he’s found a weakness.

Steve doesn’t say anything, just gasps when Bucky leans down to lick and bite at the skin beneath his open collar, makes sure to rake his teeth over sensitive skin and pull ever so slightly.

Steve’s started to move against him, most likely doesn’t even realise it because Bucky’s sure he’d be mortified if he knew that he’s grinding into Bucky’s thigh right now. But he likes it, likes knowing just how much he’s affecting Steve.

Going by the breathy gasps and the bitten off moans, he’d say he’s doing really well. But of course, he’s always striving to do better so he reaches down and grips the other thigh to wrap Steve’s legs around his waist.

He’s heavy, definitely not light enough for anyone to pick up but Bucky’s strong and he’s determined so he’s got Captain America in his arms - a very shocked looking Captain America with his legs wrapped around Bucky’s waist and his arms around Buck’s neck but god, does he look beautiful, all messed up hair and blushing skin and pinned against the wall.

Bucky spreads his hands on Steve’s waist, god that thin as hell waist.

Steve’s looking down at him, those blue eyes so dark it’s hard to even tell the colour. He seems surprised that Bucky’s picked him up, so he makes it a point to push further into the wall and move his hips just so-- “Aaaah!”

“All good, captain?”

Steve practically rubs himself against Bucky and they both make such a dirty sound together, Bucky’s worried Sam’s going to come out here and hurl something at his head but then Steve lets out a broken little hiccup and all thoughts escape his mind.

The only thing he can think of right now is moving, moving his arms to grip Steve tighter and moving his hips just so, oh he’s so close.

“Bu--Buck”, Steve whimpers brokenly and Bucky is not and will never be ready for this.

He thrusts up and stills for a second, prolonging the contact till Steve kicks against his waist, silently begging him to move. That’s all the encouragement he needs.

“Hold on, Stevie”, and then he doesn’t stop, doesn’t falter and just goes at it. Grinding his hips up against Steve, making sure he’s making it good for both of them and breathing right into Steve’s open mouth as they get closer and closer.

From the sounds of things, Steve is close so he pulls one hand off Steve’s waist and pushes it between them and just one touch and Steve’s crying out and shaking in his arms and the wetness that spreads between them, he can feel it on his hand through the layers of clothes and that’s the moment he comes undone.

It’s a haze from then on, he lazily puts Steve down and adjusts his pants before crashing on the couch and somehow falls asleep to the feeling of lips on his temple.

***

Wilson doesn't meet his eyes for a full day, and Bucky's almost sure that he either heard or saw something last night. He doesn't ask Steve about it because more likely than not, Steve'll faint at the slightest indication that Wilson might've seen them in a compromising position. And last night they were definitely in a compromising position, more than one. 

So he keeps his head down and doesn't put sour milk in Birdman's cereal like he was planning on. 

Maybe next week. 

***

His mind doesn’t chip in till the tickling on his foot becomes insistent enough to make him kick whoever is tracing a finger over the arch of his foot. He was too lost in the world of his novel that he hadn’t noticed Buck standing there beside the sofa, with his finger teasing over ticklish skin and when he looks up now, Bucky’s smiling like he’s got a secret.

Steve raises his brow, but not before pulling his foot out of reach.

“I forgot how ticklish you were”, Bucky says with a smirk. And Steve knows that smirk. That’s an I’m-going-to-tickle-you-till-you-kick-me-in-the-face smirk.

“Don’t even think about it.”

He smiles down at Steve again, eyes full of mirth but at least he doesn’t try to reach for his foot. That’s a good sign.

Instead, he sits down beside Steve and asks him something completely unrelated. “Can I borrow your reading glasses?”

Steve’s so astonished by the unexpected request that he sits there staring at Bucky, not moving to take off his glasses like he should.

Buck nudges him with his shoulder, “Stevie?”

Blinking out of whatever trance that was, Steve takes off the glasses and hands them over without a word. Bucky takes them carefully, and puts them on - fingers toying with how they should sit on his nose. And when he’s satisfied, he turns slightly to face Steve and--

\--and Steve has a mini heart-attack at the sight because Bucky’s got his hair tied up and he hasn’t shaved recently and now he’s got thick black reading glasses on and he just looks so...

He makes a hasty excuse and gets the hell out of there because even after all their talks and all the teasing and joking from Sam, Steve’s not sure what he’s doing. He’s not sure how to handle this sometimes, this absolute and all-encompassing want and need he feels overtaking him at the oddest of times.

Doesn’t know how to deal with the sight of utter _beauty_ that is Bucky with his hair all tied up, stubble covered cheeks and glasses sitting on his nose.

Nope.

He exists smoothly.

***

Robocop’s got a tumbler full of something that he keeps sipping from and just to be a little shit, Sam nods towards it and asks, “Is that denture fluid?”

All he gets for his efforts is a sneer and a silent promise of a painful death but he’s well beyond being scared of such looks.

Triumphant, he turns back to his show and ignores the death glare sent his way every now and then.

***

***

Steve should have been paying attention where he was going. He should have been looking down rather than staring at Bucky - Bucky who’s sat on the floor just inside the balcony door with his back against the glass and his knees up, supporting a book which he seems to be completely lost in. So lost that he doesn’t notice Steve skidding on the carpet and flailing for a good few seconds before falling face first.

Sam notices and rushes to his side, yelling: “Oh! Oh--senior citizen down! Someone call emergency. Where’s his damn walker? He’s got a bad hip!”

Steve can’t even be angry at him because he sounds so damn serious and when their eyes meet, Sam can see the humour in his eyes and then they’re both just lying there on the floor laughing.

Bucky’s face appears upside down a minute or so later, frowning at them and he offers to help Steve up. Taking his hand, Steve pushes himself up to sit but when Sam offers his hand up to Bucky, Buck just walks away leaving Sam there.

“Did you see that? He didn’t even offer to help me. A guy who’s on the ground, injured and hurt. Your boyfriend is so heartless, Steve. You should find someone else.”

He just shakes his head and helps Sam up.

“And will you stop ogling him? Don’t think I didn’t see you walking right into that wall this morning because you were busy drooling over your boyfriend.”

“That wasn’t--it was…”

“What was it, Steve?”

He doesn’t know what to say so he looks away and starts righting the crumpled carpet, face aflame.

Sam’s genuinely concerned for how red he is right now-- “Okay, don’t have an aneurysm over it. I’ll stop now.”

Without answering, Steve slinks out of the room and Sam gets his phone out to text the one person who will most definitely enjoy hearing about this and will tease Steve mercilessly.

***

***

Another heart to heart with Tinman in the absence of Steve, and Sam is definitely left to consider his mental health. _Why does he keep doing this to himself?_

They’d spent hours out on that balcony again, drinking and saying things they’d never say in the light of day.

Bucky had started talking about how the tests that Tony ran brought back some things he was burying, and Sam could see the pain in his eyes. “Stark wanted to see if I killed his parents, me not the Winter Soldier. And he didn’t like what he found so he started asking me all these other questions about what I remembered about Zola and about where they kept me and--and I remembered things I was trying to forget.”

Sam’d nodded, understanding both Tony and Bucky, and their motivations. For some reason, he’d told Bucky about Riley and some things that he himself was trying to forget. "Riley had this beaten up guitar and whenever we had five minutes even, he’d pick it and start singing. Some nights, I can hear him playing that guitar and I wake up, hoping I’m back there with him beside me and it’s all been a bad dream.”

Bucky had nodded back at him, eyes full of understanding. And the thing is, people say they understand what he went through but he doesn’t think so. He’s not saying that being in a war isn’t bad enough, no. What he’s saying is that losing someone in a war, leaving someone behind in a war is worse.

And Bucky gets that, mostly because he was the one who got left behind in a war.

“I dream of that lab some nights, those are the worst ones. Because I can feel that I’m not there anymore, I can remember that I got out and Steve found me, but I just don’t know how to get out of there in my head.”

“Yeah, I feel like that when I see Riley--when I see him being shot out of the sky. Like, I know he’s already gone and that I’m not really there watching him die once again, but it’s so hard to wake up.”

The silence that’d followed was harrowing.

Then, Bucky had said something about how Tony almost seemed jealous of him, jealous of his and Steve’s friendship because of how he kept talking about the parties they’d attended together and how Steve had lived in Stark Tower for a year.

“He sounded like he wanted to prove to me that Steve was his best friend or something.”

Sam had laughed and told him about that time when Tony’d tried arguing that he was Steve’s friend too and he should be the one Steve should pick in a fight, much to Steve’s embarrassment because he had a boyfriend at home who’d probably kill Tony for even thinking it.

“So I turned to him and said ‘You've known Cap for 3 minutes while Fucky over here was looking after his sick and bleeding ass back in 1942! That's a whole century of ulcers, I hear. I mean they're gay for each other, don't know how you thought you could compete with that.’ Shoulda seen his face, man! He looked like he was going to go down on one knee and propose to Steve right then and there.”

The blind panic in Bucky’s eyes at the mention of a proposal was funny, and he’s stored it for future use. Wise decision, that.

For now, he’s going to sit right here at the counter and sip his hangover smoothie in peace. And ignore the whole domestic fluff thing going on over there.

And he does a good job of it until Steve goes to open the balcony door to let some fresh air in and Bucky’s hair does that shampoo commercial thing again. It looks like the only thing missing is a summer-y song in the background.

“Look at his hair, that is so unfair! Why he get the Loreal hair??”

Steve pats him on the shoulder, “It’s alright, Sam. You’ve got nice--um, good hair too!”

“Did you just mock my natural, personally grown and tended thick locks?”

He will ignore the snorts because he is the bigger man.

***

***

When Bucky had suggested they go outside for a little while, Steve had wanted to protest but he’d also known that being cooped up inside for two weeks isn’t the best thing to do here.

So, they’re out and about. The whole street is littered with stalls and carts, the farmer’s market is definitely one of Steve’s favourite places to go. The people here are usually too engrossed in picking out the freshest vegetables to pay him any mind. And it doesn’t hurt that Bucky enjoys coming here.

So, ten minutes into checking the ripeness of fruits and testing pickle samples, it’s no surprise that Steve’s more relaxed than he thought he would be being outside so quickly after that whole media storm. And he makes the mistake of letting his guard down.

Which is why it’s such a shock when he turns around to face a young man looking at him with ice cold eyes: “Captain, are you affiliated with HYDRA?”

Steve can feel the blow as the cold words seep into his skin, dig into his bones. He feels like he’s been slapped, right across his cheek with pain blooming under a bright red scar--

“I’ll tell you what I want you to do.” Numbly, he looks up to find Bucky stepping in front of him like a physical shield. He’s too numb to react, too numb to reach out and pull Bucky away from where he’s getting in the man’s face. Steve tries, lifts his hand and wraps it around Buck’s arm but all he gets in return is Bucky glancing at him once before pushing toward the man again, “Listen carefully, I won’t say it twice. Take a giant step back and don’t ever try that again.”

The man looks scared, and who wouldn’t be to have Bucky in their face with that menacing voice. Still, he puts on a show of bravado and squeaks out, “Are you threatening me?”

Buck’s hand comes to land over Steve’s on his arm, he uncurls Steve’s fingers and twines them through his own. Then, he turns to leave and just as the man’s body sags in relief, Bucky leans in and whispers, “I don’t make threats. I make promises.”

Steve doesn’t want him to get in trouble, not because of him: “Buck--”

“Let’s go.”

Steve doesn’t have the strength to argue, so he just nods and lets himself get pulled by Bucky. He leans on Buck, lets him lead.

“You don’t gotta worry about idiots like that, Stevie. You hear me?”

He nods, afraid how his voice will come out if he tries to talk. And Bucky doesn’t force him, no. He grips Steve’s hand tighter, grounding him, and they walk home in utter silence.

***

Cursed is the day that Natasha tells Bucky about Siri.

Cursed because she got to go home and forget all about it. She got to go home and away from the vintage exhibit in their living room who’s been fiddling with an Iphone non-stop since he was handed one by Nat I’ll-be-going-home-now-you-boys-enjoy Romanoff.

Within ten minutes of getting said brand new Iphone, Bucky had put his metal finger right through the screen and then proceeded to look like a traumatised child who’d just burst their first balloon. Those damn eyes had looked so hurt and betrayed that Sam had almost taken out his iphone and handed it to Bucky. Almost.

Steve on the other hand - sweet, innocent, whipped as fuck Steve - had gone and handed him his iphone 4s which barely had Siri. Regardless, that was their big mistake - giving Bucky an alternative.

They should’ve just lied and said that their phones didn’t have Siri.

That would’ve saved them from the shitstorm that was 11pm last night till present time, 4pm.

Countless hours of hearing Siri explaining everything from _antibiotics_ to _Kinsey’s scale_ to _best food places around them_ to _veganism_ to _a detailed history of Australia_ to _Eminem_ to _M &Ms_ to _Walmart_ to _selfies_ to _artificial intelligence_ to _Stark Industries_ to _Tony Stark weaknesses_ to _Steve Rogers dorito_ to _Deadpool_ \---had passed when Steve and he had both gotten up and left Bucky whispering to Siri.

They’d found him still murmuring the next morning with bags under his eyes and the distinct look that all medical school residents share - too much coffee and no sleep. They’d silently agreed to let him be.

Now Sam, who has had to sit through countless ‘Siri, hello, my name is Bucky. What is a twitter?’, is about to wring someone’s neck and it’ll probably be his own because God forbid, something were to happen to this little metal arm bitch who's got Cap coiled around his metal fingers.

Since he’s not suicidal just yet, he takes a deep breath and plugs in his earphones. He can see Fucky with his face almost touching the Iphone and talking like he’s found a long lost friend--which, maybe not the best analogy but whatever.

He tries, he really does try to ignore him but he can’t be blamed for wanting to push him off the balcony when all of a sudden _Ice Ice Baby_ starts playing at a volume that makes Sam’s blood pressure spike.

“Okay, enough!”

Bucky looks up from his new toy with wide eyes; wide eyes that are bloodshot because he’s been staring at a screen from two inches away for a full day now. Even Steve hasn’t come out of his bedroom for hours, he’s probably asleep.

“Will you stop?”

“Stop what?”, Bucky asks with innocence dripping off his very words.

_Oh, stop what? Stop what?!_

“Stop talking to that damn phone is what!”

“Why?”

“Because you’ve been asking it stupid questions since yesterday! How hasn’t the phone died yet? Have you found the one iphone in this world with decent battery power?!”

He’s looking at Sam like he’s speaking Latin. Right.

Sam’s about to, very nicely, explain to him that it’s getting on his and Steve’s nerves that Bucky hasn’t put down that goddamn phone for a full day now when Fucky lifts the phone back to his face and purrs, actually purrs at it and goes, “Sorry, Siri. Sam is a prick”

And Siri, in all her software sweetness, answers: “Thank you for your apology, Bucky. What can I help you with?”

“When does the bird hunting season start?”

Sam starts walking backward to his room - _this year’s season starts in five days, this is everything I could find on bird hunting_ \- because no way is he getting murdered by Robocop who’s been up for an unnatural number of hours talking solely to an artificial intelligence software thing.

Yeah, no. Sam Wilson is not dying that way.

***

“He’s got Steve’s glasses on, Nat. He looks like a total hipster with his man-bun and his beard and those stupid glasses. Next thing I know he’s going to start talking about how we should all give up dairy and I’m not ready for that! Do something, Natasha! I can’t live here with hundred year old gay hipsters in my house because we both know Steve will follow him blindly to go get flower crowns and start drinking soy milk and listening to bands no one’s heard of. Oh my god, I can’t stand him now how will I stand him if he starts putting flowers in his damn Disney hair?! Natasha? Hello?”

***

He’s out jogging before it’s light, because he doesn’t want to run into someone who’ll ask him things he doesn’t want to think about.

Fury’s done a great job with it, he and Tony found who started the ruse and they made sure the person behind it all got arrested and punished. Tony even went so far as to sue them to make sure no one else tries to play such a cruel trick again.

Regardless, he doesn’t want to remember that someone could think that of him.

Just his luck though, he does run into someone. The little girl across the street who always waves at him, she’s there on the dark street with her mother walking beside her.

She waves at him once again and yells, “I know you’re not a bad guy, Captain America. I believe you!”

Her mother smiles embarrassingly but adds: “She’s been telling all her friends and everyone at school that the papers got it wrong.”

He flushes, stops jogging and stands there not knowing what to do. Then, without thinking, he kneels down and thanks the girl for taking his side. She reminds him of himself in a way, tiny little thing with too much life bursting behind those eyes.

“You’re welcome, Mr. Rogers. I know you hate bullies, and they’re all bullies. The news people.”

“Yes, they are, sweetheart. You take care, okay?” 

She nods her little head so enthusiastically and waves at him as he jogs back toward home with a heart lighter than it has been in days.

He slips into bed beside Bucky and smiles when Buck mumbles something about Steve worrying him and giving him ulcers and falls asleep somewhere in the middle of listening to the breath next to his ear and tracking the heartbeat against his back.

***

Bucky’s fiddling with Steve’s phone yet again. Even though he’s already put his fucking metal fingers through the screens of three different phones, Steve insists on buying new ones and handing them to the man with a fucking metal arm, _like what are you thinking, Rogers?_

But Sam has kept his skepticism to himself and after the whole _bird hunting season_ threat, he has stopped paying to attention to anything Fucky does with Siri. Which is why he’s holding the door open for Bucky who’s walking behind him but is too busy poking that touch screen that he doesn’t even notice Sam holding the door open for him and Sam doesn’t have that much patience so he sighs, turns around and lets the door go just as Fucky finally comes online and walks right into the glass with a half said, “Oh thank--aaah! What the fuck, Wilson?”

Sam doesn’t bother telling him that he’d held the door for a good thirty seconds and that Bucky’d have noticed if he wasn’t so lost in his damn phone. He won’t believe Sam anyway.

“Catch me holding a door open for you next time, birdman.”

“Oh yeah, like you’ve ever held a door open for me.”

“I did when we went to that underground shop in Brooklyn.”

“You mean when you ripped a door off its hinges and then pinned it on me?”

Fucky grins as if remembering the chewing out Sam had received from the owner of the shop - the little old lady who’d gone on and on about how being enhanced didn’t mean they could cause wreckage wherever they went and how she didn’t have anyone who could fix her door - all the while Fucky had giggled behind her back.

“Oh yeah, that was a good one.”

“Fuck off, Tinman.”

He just snickers in response and Sam vows to never hold a door open for him. At least there’s a little bump on Fucky’s head from where the door just hit him.

Good.

***

***

He comes home from a grocery run to a very strange sight. Which is not so strange in hindsight.

Usually when he’s out getting groceries, the front door is either propped open or someone comes out to hold it open while he gets the million bags in. Today, no one comes to open the door so he’s a little bothered and a little wary.

He calls out to both Sam and Bucky but he didn’t need to because as soon as he enters the kitchen and starts to walk toward counter to put down the bags, he sees them.

Sam is on the couch, the tv remote clutched in his hand and raised in the front of the tv.

Bucky is standing in front of the tv, with his hand covering the little red light and the sensor portion of the tv so the remote won’t work.

Steve takes a deep breath, puts the bags down and walks over to the sofa. “How long have you two been like this?”

Sam wipes his forehead with the back of his arm, his hand is almost trembling but he doesn’t lower the remote and he doesn’t stop pressing random buttons on the thing.

“Long enough to not give up.”

Bucky scoffs and moves even more in front of the tv, almost covering the whole screen behind his shoulders. He gives Steve a look that says he has to move, like he probably has to pee or something, but he’s not going to.

Steve gets on his laptop and orders a new tv.

They still fight over which tv should be on and which tv can be louder.

And on the third day, a neighbour calls the cops with a noise complaint and Steve kicks them both out of the house to go talk to the cops and apologize to the neighbours and doesn’t let them back in till they promise they won’t do stupid shit again.

***

Bucky’s always the one to start things and Steve knows that and appreciates that. He knows that Bucky’s trying to make it easier for him because they both know how inexperienced Steve is and how nervous he gets about anything to do with Bucky because he’s just gotten him back and he doesn’t want to do anything to jeopardize that.

All that being said, Steve doesn’t want this to become a pattern. He doesn’t want Bucky to feel obligated or to think that he’ll always have to take the lead so he very purposefully goes to find Buck and when he does see him on the couch fiddling with Sam’s phone, he walks over and straddles him.

“What're you doing, Captain?”

He sounds rather breathy, Steve notices. Maybe that’s got something to do with Steve’s fingers pulling on the drawstring of Bucky’s sweatpants. 

“I don't know. You tell me, Sergeant.”

Steel blue eyes widen at Steve’s words so he smiles and lowers his hand under the waistband. He holds Bucky’s eyes as his fingers touch warm skin, move lower and lower--till a hand grips his wrist and Bucky hisses, “Not here, Stevie!”

Steve smirks and pulls his hand free, moving lower and curling--

“You better not be fucking on that couch!”

He pulls his hand out of Bucky’s pants and hides his flaming face in Buck’s shoulder as Sam goes to the fridge mumbling about all the illegal things he’s heard. “I have you hear your nasty role play and dirty talk all day—“

Steve can feel his ears burning, knows he’s probably blushing fiercely and can’t help but push his face deeper into Bucky’s shoulder because he really can’t deal with this. God, the embarrassment—Bucky cuts off his thoughts with a gruff: “Wilson, he's gonna have a heart attack, stop!” as his fingers come up to card through Steve’s hair.

“No you stop being nasty, and start respecting that another person lives here. I don’t wanna hear another word out of your dirty mouth, Barnes! Don’t think I didn’t hear all that Captain and Sergeant nonsense, can’t believe I ever thought you were all naïve and innocent!”

Bucky’s arm comes around Steve, holding him close and they both burst out laughing while Sam goes on a rant about senior citizens with insatiable sexual appetites.

***

If Sam had his way, he’d never bring Bucky along when they drive into the city.

If he had his way, he’d make sure Bucky was napping or passed out drunk when they went to the city.

But given the fact that he’s outnumbered two-to-one by vintage assholes in this house, he rarely gets to have his way. Especially since Steve’s been whipped and can’t seem to think with his other head for even a second.

That’s why they’re here: Standing on Adams Street watching their resident idiot talking to a parking meter while people stare at them like they’ve run out of a psychiatric hospital.

Sam’s been hiding his face behind his hand for a good five minutes because he’s the only one who knows where Rocco’s is so he has to wait for the senior citizens to follow him and because Steve won’t let Bucky out of his sight for a tenth of a second and Bucky’s leaning over a parking meter mumbling god knows what, Sam has to stand here and bear witness to this lunacy.

This is his fault, it’s all his fault.

 _You should never have told him to talk to that self serve machine at the grocery store,_ his brain supplies. _Now, he wants to introduce himself to every damn machine and recite poetry and make love confessions._

“Steve, get your boyfriend off that parking meter!”, he hisses but the look that Steve shoots him clearly says _you did this_ so he shuts up and goes back to hiding behind their car lest some pretty girl see him with dumb and dumber over there and destroy his already non-existent chances of finding someone.

“Hello, I’m Bucky. We’re just going to that shop over there and we’ll be back in--Steve, how long will it take us?--in an an hour, okay? Okay!”

Finally, when Fucky’s done giving a speech, they cross the street and walk into Rocco’s. Sam has been dying for some decent tacos and this is the place to do it.

As soon as he gets a plate of tacos in front of him, he tunes out the domestic bliss happening beside him.

He don’t care no more.

***

He do care now.

He care because stupid Bucky is talking to that damn meter again, he’s getting aggressive and people are stopping to see him lose his shit with a fucking parking meter.

“Uh, Steve, can you stop him, please?”

“Buck, let’s go--”

 _Buck_ doesn’t hear him though, he’s too busy yelling and ripping the fucking meter out of the ground.

Sam is dying of mortification and would gladly accept a cyanide pill if someone were to offer it to him right now because Fucky’s got the parking meter in his hands, clean out of the ground.

Steve’s frozen on the spot and Fucky isn’t even present enough to know what he’s doing so people are now staring at Sam as the only sane one in this clusterfuck.

Sam chooses to put some distance between himself and crazy over there, and he makes it a point to tell anyone who’ll listen, “I don’t know him, I’ve never seen him before in my life.”

Then, Steve seems to unfreeze and he reaches up and takes the meter from his Bucky like it weighs nothing and gently places it on the ground before turning around and taking his boyfriend’s arm to lead him to their car.

Then, he comes back and takes Sam’s arm and leads him away too, both their faces burning in embarrassment. They drive off quickly, Sam sitting in the backseat wishing Steve would drive them off a cliff and just be done with it.

“I’m never going anywhere with you again”, he tells Bucky when their eyes meet in the rearview mirror.

“Good, that’s what I wanted to hear”, comes the answer and Sam doesn’t even know what to say to that or to him.

He just uprooted a parking meter.

***

**_Winter Soldier assassinates parking meter - Cap and the Falcon among witnesses_ **

 

Steve cannot believe that that is a legit headline in a legit newspaper. He can’t believe he’s looking down at today’s paper in Sam’s hands and that’s what’s on the front page.

“What kind of journalism is this? Haven’t they got better news to report on than--than this?”

Sam peeks up from the paper, face a complete mask: “You mean when your precious Bucky reached down and pulled a parking meter out of the fucking ground?”

Steve glares at him, remembering that first time Sam had told Bucky that he could ask the self serve machine what he wanted and it’d give it to him. He reminds Sam of that time and is pleased to see him shut up right away.

They work silently side-by-side, making breakfast with the newspaper abandoned on the counter.

***

It’s on the news. It is on the news.

They are showing grainy photos of Bucky having a screaming match with the parking meter while Steve looks on worriedly and Sam hides behind him.

There is a video of Bucky reaching down, gripping the meter with both hands and just pulling it right out of the ground like it’s a plastic toy he’s picking up. They keep playing that video over and over, pointing out how Steve had stood frozen with wide eyes and how Sam had gawked and then taken a very conscious and very giant step away from that madness.

When they’ve played it a million times, a lady comes on and starts talking about it.

It’s utterly mortifying to be sitting here on the sofa beside Steve and watching this news report when Bucky is spread out on a lounge chair out on the balcony, soaking up sunlight like he’s on a goddamn vacation.

The lady on the tv makes it even worse:

_Sergeant James Barnes was seen kicking and screaming obscenities at a parking meter in downtown Brooklyn by multiple witnesses. That it itself might not be very peculiar, but the way the Winter Soldier was yelling at the meter - as if it was a well trusted friend who’d betrayed him - makes it so. What’s more, being the enhanced person he is, he ripped the meter off the ground like a toy and then stood stunned as if surprised by his own strength._

_What makes this whole episode newsworthy though is the fact that Barnes has previously been seen petting parking meters. That’s right, petting several parking meters like one would a puppy which started a strange phenomenon on the internet. This odd petting led to some people on tumblr dot com claiming that they ship Bucky x Parking meter._

_It has been explained to me that shipping is when someone perceives two or more people to be romantically compatible--which is what makes this whole thing bizarre. And even more so, since the newest trend on twitter seems to be #buckyxmeterbreakup._

_There have been thousands of tweets since the photos broke on social media platforms. Some notable ones are:_

 

 **Stucky1943 @ tilldendofdline 2h**  
Hope Cap’s there to take care of his Bucky after this sad breakup **#buckyxmeterbreakup**

 **Buckster Barnes @meteredbuck 3h**  
Bucky crying over quarters cuz they remind him of his ex **#buckyxmeterbreakup**

 **The Falcon @samwilsonrules 3h**  
Sam looks so mortified, he about to hit Bucky over the head with that meter **#buckyxmeterbreakup**

 

_More on this story as it develops._

_Stay tuned to see our in-house expert analyzing Tony Stark’s latest stint at the State Department Annual Dinner. Did everyone’s favourite playboy philanthropist really put the Secretary of State on hold, and then call him a gullible idiot? Find out after this break._

 

Sam gets up from the sofa, goes straight for the fridge and collects enough food to keep him alive through the week if he doesn’t want to come out of his room.

Then, with a single glare shot toward the open balcony door, he walks out of the living room with no intention of coming out and meeting anyone’s eyes for at least three days.

Natasha texts him five minutes later: _How was Rocco’s?_

He turns off his phone and vows to never speak to any of these people again.

***

“I need bleach, I need someone to take out my brain and wash it and put it back - the things I've heard, Nat. These freaky, jive ass motherfuckers--aren't seniors supposed to be all conservative and shit? And here's Fucky out here making our noble bald eagle into a shameless pornstar with a military fetish. He swears like a sailor, Nat, our naive little Captain - he drops more f-bombs than a fucking frat house put together. They curse so much, you won’t believe it and they say all these things--the things these ears have heard, Nat. If I tried to donate my ears, I’m sure they’d say, no thanks, we can’t take them. My ears are un-donatable, Natasha! Stop laughing, this is serious—hello? Hello?’’

***

 


	2. Sam's revenge

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I saw a few of you worried about Sam alone in that house with the most smitten and lovesick idiots of this century so I gave him a little revenge plot...well, it started as one, I promise.

“What the shit, Captain! I thought you were supposed to be all bambi-eyed and virginal! But here you are serving America, one troop at a time - if you know what I mean!”

He winks, a few times just to drive the message home. 

The Captain turns a very interesting shade of scarlet that’s definitely new even for him. And then the stuttering starts, “I--who are you? Why are you in--”

“Who am I? Really, _who am I_?”, he asks, bringing his hand up to his chest, truly hurt at the ignorance. 

No response. 

He flings himself down onto the couch and looks up at the two hunks who’ve recently separated from each other. They look two minutes away from a heart attack at being caught doing naughty things. “First, you don’t call me to your top secret Avengers missions and now you’re asking me who I am?”, he says. 

“Uh--w-what?”, the Captain stutters out; he even clears his throat, looking up at the other beefcake and then instantly blushes and steals his eyes. 

Wow, Steve Rogers is definitely virginal. He smiles to himself, thinking about how much Stark will like hearing about this incident.

Still, he has an obligation to make the Captain as flustered as he can. Which, judging by the way his hands are clenched into fists and his face is slowly turning purple, won’t be that hard.

“Oh come on, drop the stuttering, blushing maiden act, Captain! You know who I am!”, he announces. 

A shake of the head. “Erm, I’m sorry I really don’t--”, Rogers starts to say.  

“Are you serious? You really don’t know who--this is the worst day ever! Captain America doesn’t even recognise me! I can’t live like this anymore, just kill me. Kill me now!”

He pops one eye open, wiping away an imaginary tear when Captain America looks rather concerned for him. He even tries to console: “Look, I don’t--”

But his grumpy little boyfriend interrupts: “Listen here, dickwad. He said he doesn’t know you, will you cut out the shit?”

Well, then. 

“Ah, you must be the bitchy assassin turned boyfriend then! How’s that metal arm treating you. Got any bird shit on it, lately?”

Boyfriend's jaw clenches in true Hollywood Hero™ style and he steps forward looking all assassin-y. “Who the fuck do you think--”

“Wade, is that you?”, a voice interrupts Man-bun's threat and they all turn to look. 

“Oh fucking finally!", he crows and gets off the sofa to greet the new person. "Finally someone who recognizes me for my stellar work as a superhero! Wilson, come here, my man! Dude! My pal!”

Sam hugs him back and even throws in a smile. Then, he points toward the two perfect specimens. “I see you’ve met the vintage players.” 

Wade turns to look at the two naughty children and smirks. “Met them? I saw that one with his hand on that one’s--”

Sam's hand flies up to cover his mouth. Wade gets the message and shuts up instantly, nodding so Sam will take his hand off.

He looks very distressed, Sam, even more so than the two actually caught in the act of-- “Please stop!", Sam begs, "Please, I have enough mental images to keep me up for a lifetime.”

“Keep you up?,", he scoffs. "I hope you mean keep you up jerking it because that was some hot damn loving I walked in on. Who even needs porn when you've got Angel Beefcake and Sexy Robocop rutting against the fridge? That's some hot shit, Sammy!”

Three competitively red faces stare back at him. Oh, this is so easy. He could do this all day, find out who has an aneurysm first...

Captain America ruins his plans with a very impatient sounding: “Sam, you know this guy?” 

“Uh, yeah. Steve, this is Wade Wilson. Wade, this is Ste--”

“No introductions necessary: tall, blond, and gorgeous with a permanent blush and shaped like a dorito - why, he’s Captain America! The Star Spangled Man we all deserve! And that one over there, the grumpy cat - he’s the good Captain’s Bucky! You look very different without the raccoon makeup, dude!”

Sam’s laughing his ass off in the background while Steve holds Bucky back from punching Wade Wilson unconscious.

Wade Wilson, however, doesn’t look the least bit worried at having a trained soldier and assassin growling and coming at him like a pitbull. No, Wade Wilson just looks around the room, touching everything within reach and doing some kind of weird dance and then breaking that vase by the tv followed by a mile long curse that would put nick Fury to shame.

“Oops, my bad,", Wade says, hands on his cheeks and mouth wide open like he's a schoolgirl posing for a photo. "Put it on my tab.”

Steve turns to the only person who knows this lunatic, for help and finds him laughing. “Sam?”, he barks.  

Sam takes a minute to stand up from where he was crouched down with his hands on his knees. He looks at Steve with raised eyebrows, a huge smile still lingering on his face.

“Yeah, Cap?”

“You asked your friend over?” 

Before Sam can answer, Wade jumps in front of Steve, He actually physically jumps in front of Steve, startling them all: “Oh, I don’t need an invitation, Cap! I’m practically family!”

Bucky growls under his breath. “Whose family?” 

And the moment Wade Wilson reaches out and pets Bucky on his head and cooes at him is the moment they realize just how crazy he is.

Even Bucky is too stunned to act. He stands frozen, before his eyes flicker to Steve as if asking - did he just pet my hair?

Steve sees this for what it is and makes hurried excuses and then spends a good five minutes dragging Bucky out of the room - _These fucking Wilsons, there’s something wrong with their noggins, Steve. Lemme at him!_ \- while Wade waxes poetic about how soft Bucky’s hair was and how he’d love to use the same shampoo and conditioner if he had any hair.

The second Bucky has been dragged out of the room kicking and screaming, Wade turns to Sam and points over his shoulder with a thumb: “Wow, that guy needs to chill! I mean I get that he was an assassin and all that but come on, he’s like a hundred years old now. He should pop some viagra and get down to his patriotic duties!”

Sam's face transforms from a grin to this constipation look so fast it's not even funny. “Wade, please stop talking about the two of them in a sexual context,”, he begs again. 

Wade just shakes his head. “I could but Sam, if I don’t no one else will! It’s my responsibility!”

Sam’s face turns even weirder like he’s just swallowed something unpleasant. He looks at Wade a second longer before shaking himself off like that’ll get rid of this conversation. Hah! 

_Naive little puppy..._

“What’re you doing here, anyway?”, Sam asks once he's calmed down a little and brought Wade a glass of milk and cookies as requested. 

He dunks a cookie into the milk and takes a huge bite. “Oh, I had a few free days in between looking for Francis so I figured I’d drop by and say hello. That scary Russian chick mentioned that you might need some emotional support.”

Sam's face crumbles once more like a child being reminded that Santa's really just their father in a rented suit bringing socks for Christmas. He sighs, utterly done with life. “You’ve seen how lovesick those two are, I need a new brain is what I need.” 

“Oh come on, admit it to me at least,", Wade insists, "You’ve had dreams of ‘em together, haven’t you?" He slurps from the milk glass suggestively, watches as Sam's eyes almost bulge out of his head. "Dreams like _that_ , y’know, wet drea--”

“What on earth are you talking about?!”, Sam screeches. 

“You know what I’m talking about. Someone as hot as Steve Rogers messing around with Hot and Grumpy - I mean that’s a piece of prime ass, you gotta have dreams--”

“Nightmares! That’s what I have, Wade. And now thanks to you, I’m going to have even more of them!”

“Nah, you’re just lying to yourself, Sammy. Embrace the inner you, dude. I know you find him hot despite all your protests--”

“Oh god, please stop talking.”

“Fine, I will. But we both know the truth.” He reaches up and pats Sam’s chest. “In here.”

“Wade?”

“Yeah, Sam?”

“Get out.”

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hahahahahahaha
> 
> I made myself laugh. I had this in my drafts since June and I've just re-read it and made myself laugh.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope that was at least half as good as the prequel.


End file.
